Four Witches Walk In To A Bar
by FlashFiction
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Rolanda Hooch and Poppy Pomfrey walk in to a bar.   A short tale about four friends sharing a drink and a laugh amidst troubled times.


Snow covered everything as far as the eye could see. The grounds were layered with it, the Black Lake appeared to be freezing and the Whomping Willow looked as through someone had attempted to dust it in icing sugar, before getting bored and dumping the entire lot on its gnarled branches. The Hogwarts Castle had had its fair share of icing; the great structure looked like a cake, the windows gleaming like candles against the white that decorated the many roofs, turrets and towers.

Minerva McGonagall stood on the steps that led down from the gigantic entrance doors. She had been standing there for quite some time and was almost part of the landscape, the tight black bun at the back of her head dusted with snow. Glancing down at her watch, with serious, dark eyes, she let out an exasperated sigh. It was not like Poppy to be late. Rolanda, yes. Pomona, maybe, but Poppy? No, Poppy was always punctual. Minerva sighed again and pulled her long, black cloak closer to her chest. Hopefully she wouldn't have to wait much longer.

It was getting more and more difficult for the teachers to leave the school, without questions being asked.

_Well, _Minerva thought, _with Dolores Umbridge breathing down everybody's neck, it's nearly impossible to do anything_.

Thank god the odious woman had decided to go away for the Christmas holidays. Minerva had seen her packed cases in the entrance hall, each one a sickly shade of pink. Dolores had also marched in to the staffroom and announced that she was going. Minerva hoped she would get her act together and leave soon.

A few seconds later Minerva was joined by a squat witch, with fly-away grey hair framing a kind, if a little dirty, face. She wore patched up robes in an earthy green colour, a hat, perched on her frizzy head and a scarf, wrapped tightly around her neck. Her footprints in the snow were still visible, leading away from the greenhouses.

"Sorry I'm late Minerva," Pomona Sprout said, rubbing her dirt covered hands together, "I just had to finish settling the plants down for the winter. You'd be surprised how many are susceptible to colds."

Minerva nodded, with an understanding smile. What Pomona knew about herbology, that she didn't, could probably fill a book. Several books, if she was perfectly honest.

The two witches stood in silence for a few minutes, both trying to keep warm.

"So I've seen her bags in the foyer." Pomona said, with a definite bitter edge to her voice.

Both woman knew who _her _was referring to. Dolores Umbridge had, in her short time at Hogwarts, made herself very unpopular.

"Yes," Minerva replied, "do you think it's too much to hope that her departure is going to be permanent?"

"Let me guess who you're talking about!" said a low, smokey voice from behind them.

Rolanda Hooch, the Hogwarts Quidditch mistress, came bounding down the steps with her usual energy. She was a short woman, but her height by no means defined her. What she lacked in stature, she made up for in personality. Her steel grey hair was short and spiky, giving her an attitude you wouldn't expect to find in a ninety plus year old woman. Not that she looked it. Her high cheek bones, jaunty half smile and hawk like yellow eyes gave her the rather attractive look of a well kept sixty year old.

"Poppy not here?" she said, "Bit late isn't she?"

Pomona smiled.

"You're one to talk, Ro."

Rolanda shrugged, "I'm always late, people begin to expect it. Poppy however? Never known her to be late for anything! The world could set it's clocks by Poppy Pomfrey."

However something must have been wrong with the worlds clocks because Poppy Pomfrey didn't appear for another five minutes. When she did, she looked flustered and quite put out.

"Anything the matter, Poppy?" Minerva asked.

The matron said nothing, but beckoned for them to start walking, her long, red coat swishing across the ground. Her three companions smiled to each other; it was just like Poppy to want to make up lost time.

Poppy Pomfrey was of average height, with an excellent figure making her the envy of her friends: Tall and skinny Minerva, squat and round Pomona, short and boyish Rolanda. She had big, brown doe eyes and soft white hair that was currently coiled on top of her head. Her sweet appearance had deceived many; she was a fighter.

"Poppy, slow down!" yelled Pomona, as she tried to keep in step with her friend.

"I agree with Pomona." said Rolanda, who, usually leading the charge, was finding it difficult to out run Poppy's long strides.

"What's the matter?" Minerva asked quietly.

Poppy and Minerva had been close friends for years and she could tell when all was not well.

"Honestly, if I never see that _toad_ of a woman again it will be too soon!" Poppy screamed with feeling.

Even from the brief description, those walking beside her knew perfectly well who she was talking about.

"What's she done this time?" Pomona sighed.

"She evaluated the hospital wing," Poppy whispered in a clipped voice, which was dangerously quiet, "she just swanned right in like she owned the place and started critiquing every move I was making."

Pomona glanced at Minerva. Dolores Umbridge, unacquainted with ways of the Hogwarts staff, did not know that Poppy was very uptight and particular about the standards of her hospital. Indeed Minerva doubted if some of healers at St Mungo's could maintain the level of care that Poppy gave the students of Hogwarts school. When she voiced this opinion to her angry friend, it seemed to calm her down.

"Minerva's right," Rolanda said, putting a well built arm around Poppy's shoulder, "No one could fault you on anything, even the Queen of Criticism."

Poppy smiled weakly and Rolanda continued on her Umbridge inspired rant.

"You know the bloody cow actually told me how to ref quidditch the other day. Said I wasn't paying enough attention on the field! Idiotic woman! If her precious ministry was paying more attention maybe they'd notice that You-Know-Who was back on their doorstep!"

Minerva shivered, though she didn't quite know why. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the mention of Quidditch, reminding her that three from her Griffindor line up had life time bans. Maybe it was the mention of Umbridge, that always made her shiver. It was probably the mention of the darkest wizard ever to walk the earth that had sent a tingle down her spine. You-Know-Who. Voldemort. Even thinking the name made her shudder, let alone saying it out loud. Trust Rolanda, to talk of the current climate so flippantly. Minerva, however, was not so ready to be forward. It wasn't that she questioned Albus, as so many of the wizard population seemed to be doing. Albus Dumbledore would have her full support until the day she died. It was just that she was terrified of it becoming the normal talk, afraid of "hello" or "how are you" being replaced by "who's dead" and "where is he now" like it had done the last time.

The four witches walked through the snow, all the way to Hogsmeade Village. They had done this almost every holidays for the past twenty years, taking advantage of the dwindling student numbers to share a drink and a private gossip. The Three Broomsticks was alive with revelers when the group walked in and shook the snow from their cloaks. Madam Rosmerta, the friendly bar tender and land lady, gave them a smile as warm as the fire that burnt across the room.

"Ladies," she said, in a playful, welcoming tone. "What can I get for you?"

"A pint of mulled mead, thanks." said Pomona.

"Gillywater." Minerva said, though she hardly needed to, as it was all she ever ordered.

"You're both so boring," teased Rolanda, mockingly, "I'll have a Butterbeer and rum cocktail, please."

"And I'll get Firewhisky." Poppy added.

Rosmerta leaned forward, with one eyebrow raised in almost a challenge.

"Shots?"

Poppy straighten up and cleared her throat.

"Why not? I think I can take it."

With the drinks in tow, they found a table at the back, near the fire.

"Cheers!" Rolanda said and they all mimicked her, before clicking their glasses together.

Minerva took a sip of her gillywater. It was salty, slightly sour and tasted a bit like the ocean. Opposite her, Pomona took a gulp of mead, wiping away the froth with her hand. Rolanda slowly twirled a decorative umbrella, mixing the orange-red concoction that filled her glass. Poppy had already drained one of her three shots in a single go.

"Wo-ah, didn't know you could do that Pops!" Rolanda said, clearly impressed at her friends drinking ability.

"Well I can't share everything," the matron smiled, "I have to maintain my air of mystery."

"Air of mystery!" Minerva smirked into her glass.

"You'd be surprised, Minerva," Pomona said, "I have heard many a rumour circulating the halls about our beloved healer."

"Oh, like the one about you operating an illegal magic carpet delivery service in the sixties!" whispered Rolanda.

"Don't forget the story about you once being a dragon slayer!" Pomona added.

"Or the latest gossip," Rolanda whispered, "about you secretly seeing Filius!"

"Filius?" Minerva spat, caught between amusement and disbelief. "As in our Filius, Filius Flitwick?"

Her spiky haired friend nodded solemnly. Minerva raised both her eyebrows. It was easier to see Poppy slaying dragons, than slaying the heart of the tiny charms teacher.

Poppy just smiled.

"As much as I like the man, I can confirm that this rumour is indeed rumour and has no fact in it. Honestly Rolanda, the things you hear."

Pomona sniggered.

"The things she hears? Starts more like! We both know, Ro, that the source of that particular story was yourself."

Rolanda, who didn't look the least bit guilty, shrugged and said, "I saw you coming out of his room late one night. What was I supposed to think?"

Poppy let out a silvery laugh.

"He has the flu, Ro, I'm the healer. Put two and two together."

"Well I did that," Rolanda sniffed, "but obviously we go by different adding systems."

She picked up her glass and drained the rest of her Butterbeer and rum. Stirring the dregs with her decorative umbrella, she went on with her point.

"It would be nice though!" she said, in a thoughtful, dreamy voice.

"What?" asked Poppy.

"If you _were_ going out with Filius!" she cried in earnest. "A bit of romance amongst our numbers could be a pleasant distraction. We could invite him here and then interrogate him to within an inch of his life, just to check that he's good enough for you."

Poppy smiled sweetly.

"You sound quite giddy at the prospect!"

Rolanda nodded enthusiastically, knocking over her empty glass in the process.

"Well," Minerva said, taking out her wand and silently repairing the broken drinks vessel, "I think I can say that we are all confirmed singletons."

Pomona nodded slowly, while Rolanda looked indignantly at her friend.

"Speak for yourself! This-" she said, gesturing to her face, "is always on the market."

At this declaration Pomona fell off her chair, Poppy spat out her drink and Minerva, now dripping in Firewhisky, burst out laughing and didn't stop until half the bar was looking at her. Rolanda sat there, looking put out.

"Awww, darling!" Poppy crooned, in a tone of mock-concern, "You do know that we love you."

"Yeah, yeah." Rolanda grumbled, but she was smiling.

"I'll get the next round," she said, sportingly, "who wants another?"

Pomona politely refused, as she hadn't finished her first. Minerva also declined. Before Poppy could follow the trend, Rolanda cut it.

"Come on Poppy!" she said. "Minerva's wearing your last drink!"

Poppy laughed and accepted.

A few hours later the witches left the bar and began the journey home. Rolanda, who was swaying dangerously, and Poppy led the group, both singing "Odo the Hero" very badly at the top of their voices. Pomona and Minerva followed behind, smiling, shaking their heads and trying to make sure that the other two didn't fall over. When they arrived at the castle Rolanda did fall over, though whether it was due to a low lying tree branch or her less than sober state no one could be sure.

They managed to get inside without further incident. Pomona and Minerva first set about putting Rolanda to bed, something which she was rather reluctant to do. After the fifth time returning her to bed, Minerva suggested they restrain her. Leaving Rolanda to struggle against her magical bonds, they took Poppy back to her room in the hospital wing.

"Really!" Pomona said, as they walked down a corridor, "Rolanda's lucky Dolores wasn't here to put that in her evaluation!"

Minerva silently agreed.

When they got Poppy to her room, she fell in to bed and went straight to sleep. Pomona chuckled.

"Good thing she has no patients. She's in no state to care for anyone."

Minerva smiled.

"You know Poppy. She wouldn't even come with us if she had patients to look after."

"Still," Pomona added, "She'll probably regret those seven shots in the morning."

They walked from the hospital wing in silence and parted ways at an intersection in the corridor. Minerva walked quickly, the sound of her shoes on the stone all she could hear. She nodded at Professor Flitwick, who was taking the night duty.

"I hear you've had the flu." she said.

"Yes, but it's clearing up now," he replied, "Poppy's been a great help."

_I bet she has _thought Minerva, rather unkindly.

She continued to her office, a smile on her face. As she got ready for bed, she paused to look outside at the snow. Their footprints were still visible, even in the dark of the evening. Minerva sat on her bed and thanked who ever was responsible for her friends. Her wonderful, wonderful friends who had, for one evening, made her forget about the woes of life, the reign of Umbridge and the constant feeling of impending doom, brought about by the return of the Dark Lord. Minerva got in to bed, still smiling. She knew, that what ever life could throw at her, she had people that would stand beside her.


End file.
